


Enough

by mikierosse



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Heartwrenching angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Breakdown, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Riza's POV, almost, and the constant state of agony, but not really, im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikierosse/pseuds/mikierosse
Summary: Riza Hawkeye has a special power.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time trying to write a character study, and I chose Riza because she is such an amazing character and I adore her. I've tried to get in her head, and as much as I want to understand this character to the fullest, of course, that is not possible. There is so much depth to Arakawa Hiromu's characters that it would be impossible to unravel everything. However, this is my take on what Riza Hawkeye has gone through in her life. Mostly follows the events of the manga. Royai centric but Riza's POV only.

Riza Hawkeye has a special power. 

She can slow down time at will. Surely, this ability is the result of years of practice and projecting her will to the universe to simply give her a break. But then looking back, she realizes that _no_ , she can't slow down time at will, but only when she is truly desperate. 

13.

It started when she would lock herself up in the attic. When she wanted to run, to escape her fate's claws, to see the world. Then the images of needles piercing through her back crowded her mind and sent shivers down her spine, and she would realize how childish she was acting. Not that it wasn't normal for a 13-year-old to think childishly, it wasn't normal for _her_ to be childish. She was trapped in a cage, and maybe if her father would let her out, she would make some friends, and maybe then she wouldn't feel so lonely and empty. She knew her father loved her. Everything he did was for her. _Because_ he loved her. He scared her most of the time. He looked possessed when he worked on his alchemy. But every time he would look at her with the eyes of a broken man, she would just surrender to his will. It was her choice. She wanted to make him happy. In reality, she just wanted him to look at her and see her. But every time he looked at her, he saw her mother.

So when she would want to escape from the pain that crawled in her back, she would go to the attic to watch the stars and beg the universe to give her a break. And when a shooting star lit up the dark sky, she wished that if she couldn't go out in the world, at least she wanted the stars to bring the world to her. Only a few moments after, she would laugh bitterly in understanding how ridiculous her wish was. When a new day would come, she would try to slow down time so that she could stay in her world a little longer. It did not work. But she had to face her reality either way. 

Her father didn't usually have visitors, so when she spotted the slender figure of a dark-haired boy standing on the porch from the window, she grew curious. She walked closer to the window and carefully moved the curtains to have a better view. That's when he noticed her. His raven eyes met with hers for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for her to notice how his eyes widened ever so slightly. He immediately deviated his gaze, looking at the door, a sheepish grin on his face. 

When he would walk around the mansion, carrying books and notes her father had assigned him with, she would pry silently, careful not to disturb him. She wondered why her father had accepted him as his apprentice. He seemed much like an airhead. But he was passionate and energetic, and whatever he was trying to learn, he was determined to the point of being reckless. She had never seen someone argue with her father so fiercely, hell, she had never seen someone argue with her father at all. 

-

"I can see you, you know," he said after he spotted her hiding behind the wall at the entrance of the study, "Come in, I want to show you something." 

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to disturb you. I just— "

"You aren't disturbing me," he smiled softly at her, "Do you like animals? Have you ever had any pets?" The confused look she wore made him immediately regret his sudden questions, "Sorry, that was too random. I—" 

"I've never had pets," she answered while standing in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around her chest, "I would love to have one, though." 

He pondered on her answer for a few seconds, "I will show you something," he started scrubbing on the table. 

"What is it?" 

"First, I dare you to come closer." 

She hesitated for a moment but then started moving in his direction. 

"Relax and take a seat. I don't bite," he laughed, "I promise." 

Once she was seated, he showed her what looked like a transmutation circle, "Hm, let's see," he started, "What kind of pet do you like?" 

She simply shrugged, looking at him with a hint of amazement in her eyes. 

"You don't talk much, do you? Ok, how about a dog?" he clapped his hands, the circle was activated, and the matter in it transformed into a small toy in the form of a puppy, "Now, I know this isn't a real pet but..." he trailed off, "Isn't it amazing what alchemy can do?" 

His eyes shimmered under the low light of the desk lamp, and she could see how much he loved what he was studying. His expression reflected a childish innocence and bewilderment. She kept staring at him in awe, "Yes, it truly is amazing." She wasn't really interested in alchemy — she hated it, actually, because of what it had done to her father — but he made it seem like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

"I want to find a way to use this incredible power to protect and help people," he continued, his gaze fixed, his thoughts roaming somewhere far inside his mind, "Here, I want you to have this." 

He reached to grab her hand and pull it near him. When he touched her skin, she felt a slight static of electricity at the contact, and his hand was warm and comforting, and her small hand fit so perfectly into his. He softly squeezed her hand to assure her that everything was fine and then put the wooden toy on it. When he was about to let go was where it first happened. As his fingers brushed her skin, she was able to slow down time and feel his skin underneath her hand for a fraction longer. She didn't understand why, but his touch was comforting, and she just wanted that comfort to be there a little longer. 

-

When he would talk about his dreams, ambitions, and hopes for the future, it made her feel like a blank canvas. He would rarely do that, but she could feel the pure passion and determination in his voice. His eyes lit up every time he would mention how he wanted to change the world and make it a better place. He was conscious that his line of thinking was naive, to say the least, but he didn't care. Nothing was stopping him from dreaming and musing in a future that was too good to be true. He was so inspiring and admirable in her eyes. And she had never seen someone so full of _life_ , and she — she was _hollow_ . She didn't have any hopes and dreams for the future. She did not know what she wanted to do with her life if she would ever escape from the place she was confined to in the first place. He was like a painting full of flaming and vibrant colors. And she would rather look at that _work of art_ all day than try to paint her own. But he wouldn't let her. 

_You will find something that you love to do, something you'll be good at, it will make your heart race and will make you happy. I'm sure of it. And even if for some reason you don't, it'll still be fine, you'll be free to go everywhere you want and see the world._

She wanted to hold on to his words. She wanted to believe in him with her whole being because this way, she had something to hope for the future. Find something that will make her happy. But for the moment that something was seeing him every morning, with his absurdly messy hair and foolish grin. 

15.

Then he decided to enlist in the military. It wasn't like this came out of nowhere — no, she knew this was going to happen one day, and with her father refusing to teach him the secrets of the flame alchemy— _it is too early to teach him_ — it was going to happen sooner rather than later. Yet she couldn't control the way her heart dropped and the way her throat went dry. A voice inside her head kept repeating one word over and over again. And she knows now that voice was _evil_ , incredibly selfish because she knew that becoming a soldier to protect people was his dream, and she wanted him to follow his dream, but she just couldn't silence the damn voice. 

"Take care of master Hawkeye for me. He's too stubborn for his own good," he gave her a light chuckle, avoiding her gaze. He always did that. He always avoided her gaze, but she knew this time it was different. 

_Stay._

He took a deep breath, and finally met her gaze, "Good thing he has an also very stubborn daughter." 

_Stay._

He stared into her eyes, and it looked like it took every ounce of will in his body to do so, "Most importantly, take care of yourself." 

_Stay._

He shifted his gaze down, and she felt her body unconsciously move slightly forward in his direction. But it was as if he felt it and lifted his gaze again. And she was able to read his glance. _I can't_. Something suddenly shattered inside her. Since when were they able to communicate with glances? How did it happen? For some reason, unbeknownst to her, she was able to keep her composure while the pang in her chest grew heavier, "I will," she finally replied, her voice slightly shaky, "You take care of yourself too, Mr. Mustang." 

That night she locked herself up in the attic again. And when tears fell down her cheeks, she realized how long it had been since the last time she had cried. And she could barely breathe when the realization of his impact on her life sunk in her skin, slowly, burning her chest and overwhelming it with a sore ache she couldn't get off. And she couldn't understand why it hurt, but it did, so she just learned to ignore the pain, eventually.

17.

The leafless trees in the graveyard stood hollow above her. The morning dew was still fresh on the withered leaves of grass, and she could smell the wet soil, as she stood in front of the gravestone. There were thousands of words she would want to say, but right that moment, she could think of none. She found it strange how her mind went blank. Her father had been sick for a long time, so she had expected this was going to happen. But somehow, the reality of it still needed to settle in her mind. With the events of the night before still freshly engraved in her brain, she took a deep breath, her ears ringing her name, uttered by _him_ , in agony. The vision of her father's lifeless body in _his_ arms suddenly passed before her eyes, and she felt sick in the stomach again. What would she want to say to a father that transcended to madness because of his alchemy? What would she want to say to a father that left her behind with a heavy burden? She _knew_ her father loved her. She was his most precious person in the world. He would talk to her about what he wanted to do with his work — _change the world_ — a work that destroyed him. She also wanted to believe in his dream. The dream of alchemy being used for good, for protecting people. 

The sudden shift of air beside her brought her back to reality. _He has changed._ She hadn't seen him in a while after all, of course, he had changed. There was a different air around him. _He feels like a stranger._ It was understandable. They used to be merely children, after all. Yet she couldn't deny she was hoping he had stayed the same reckless, passionate boy she once knew. But when he avoided her gaze once again, she realized, maybe he had just grown up. 

"What will you do from now on?" 

There it was. The question that had been torturing her for a while. She still hadn't found something she was good at. She still was hollow, a blank canvas. So she forced herself to smile a sad smile. There was nothing she looked forward to in her future, "I think I'll be able to live on my own somehow." 

"...I see," his face reflected her own, "If anything happens, please don't hesitate to contact me at the military authorities. I'll probably be in the military for the rest of my life." 

Those words uttered by him got her by surprise. Something didn't feel right. _For the rest of his life?_ She knew the implications of that, and she wanted to scream, her mind going in circles, "Please, don't die," the words came out of her mouth before she could stop them, her voice higher than she usually allowed it to be, even though her request sounded more like a plea than anything else. 

He looked startled by her unusual outburst, "I...I can't promise that. Being a soldier means that your life is in danger at any given moment. I might die on the side of the road like a piece of trash. But if it means that I can do something for my country and protect people with my hands...I think I'll be happy." 

She looked at the soft smile on his face as he stared down, and she had the sudden _urge_ to reach for his face. It was like she was under a spell, and the desire to do something so _trivial_ was burning her skin. Her hand involuntarily moved, but she willed it to stop. She felt like she was going to run out of air if she didn't touch him right that moment. So she tried to slow down her breathing and compose herself. It was not working. 

"I'm sorry," he continued, and she mentally thanked him for starting to talk again because if they had stayed quiet one second longer, she would have done something she would have regretted, "I ended up talking about my foolish dream." 

"I think it is a wonderful dream," her mind was going in circles again, looking down at her father's grave, "A future where everyone could be able to live in happiness," she took a deep breath, knowing what she was about to do, "Can I trust you with my father's dream?" she released a sigh, contemplating whether or not it was a good idea. Deep down, she knew it was not, and she was about to make him share a burden that was her responsibility. Her father's alchemy was dangerous, but she was sure he was going to use it for good. And there was also this small voice inside her, which she mentally _hated_ because she knew that voice way too well, saying that he would be safer if he had the power of flame alchemy. But also, she wanted to believe in him so badly. Again. With her whole being. He always had that effect on her. Even after such a long time. 

-

When the jacket slowly slid off her shoulders and hit the ground, she could feel the chill air in the room hit her bare skin, sending shivers down her spine. She quietly waited for any reaction as she couldn't see his face. She could hear his fists clenching, and the air in the room was growing stiffer. Not a word uttered by him, and she understood why. There was nothing to say. To him, it may seem strange for a father to scar his child like that, and who wouldn't think that? And as his teeth gritted, she could hear a low grunt. She slightly shifted her position, straightening her back. She could hear him loud and clear. One unuttered word drifted in the air. _Why?_ Why? The reason was simple. Both his daughter and his work were precious to him. He couldn't allow for his work to fall in the hands of outsiders. He couldn't allow for his work to _disappear._ The reasons were always _simple._

She heard him let out a long, dragged-out sigh, and his fists relaxed in surrender. What was done was done. There was nothing he could do to change it. She felt his gaze burn her skin, and suddenly, she was selfconscious of the position she was in. She was standing half-naked in front of her father's student. And she felt more exposed and vulnerable than ever before. How did she find the courage to do that? Expose herself in front of him? What was she thinking? And she realized the answer was just that — _she wasn't thinking._ Her breathing hastened, and she started shivering under his gaze. That was when she heard the air shift behind her as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her body, carefully as though she was made of glass. And he stood for a moment above her petite figure, hands softly pressing on her arms, and then led her to sit on the sofa beside her.

"I...I'll go get some paper, ok?" and with that, he swiftly walked out of the room, leaving her with her thoughts again. The immediate warmth that came from his jacket made her feel at ease. _It smells like him._ She would lie if she said it wasn't comforting. But then again, she noticed her thoughts were getting more and more dangerous with every second passing. So she took a deep breath and told herself to stop. He was going to disappear again, and she probably wouldn't see him again. That's when the annoying voice in her head came back, telling her that she wasn't really ok with that scenario. 

He finally returned to the room, looking like he had done a lot of running, "I'm sorry," he said, trying to catch his breath, "but I...I started a fire. It's getting chillier, and I'll need to...copy the notes," he stumbled on his words, his face flushed, "I'm sorry." 

She smiled to herself — _he's adorable,_ "Thank you."

She followed him in the living room and sat on the sofa facing the fireplace. She removed his jacket and hugged one of the pillows on the sofa while tucking her knees close to her chest. He also sat next to her, a notebook on his hand. 

"You seem to remember your way around the house," she finally spoke. 

"Of course, I do. I've spent a considerable amount of time here after all." 

"It seems so empty without Father," she sighed, hugging the pillow tighter. He didn't say a word but kept scribbling the notes on the notebook. "I know you have questions," she continued, "You can ask them." 

He stopped writing, as silence fell again amidst them, "I'm not going to make you remember...that...your past." 

"That's very thoughtful of you, and I appreciate it, but this was my choice." 

She heard him click his tongue in disbelief, "How old?" he asked. 

She paused for a moment, knowing what he was thinking, "Thirteen." 

"Now, it wasn't really your choice, was it?" he snapped, putting the notebook aside and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"I... it isn't that easy to understand." 

"No, you need to understand that this is not normal," his anger very conspicuous, but she didn't hear any pity in his voice — she would have hated that — only sheer rage. He sighed, shifting his position on the sofa, "I'm sorry...it really is not my place to— "

"It's fine. I know you mean well. He...he had his problems. Maybe he was a madman, but he was the only family I knew." 

"Riza..." hearing her name uttered by him brought back memories from the night before, and she could hear her heartbeat quickening and her vision getting blurry. Her limbs felt heavy, and all she could do was hug the pillow tighter and mentally pray for the weak, hopeless state she was in to be over. Only hearing his voice brought her back, "Are you ok?" 

It took her a moment, "I'm fine — please continue." 

They stayed quiet for a long time, and all she could hear were his breathing, the scrabble on the paper, and the faint white noise of the fireplace, but somehow, the silence was not awkward, on the contrary, it was comfortable and relaxing. 

"Do you think you can decipher it?" 

"I don't really know yet." 

"Father said that if anyone could understand the notes, that would be you. He talked very highly of you, you know. Even though he was against you becoming a soldier. He thought the government would take advantage of your bright mind and intelligence. But I think you're doing the best you can to be helpful to your country. There's really nothing wrong with that." 

She heard him stop writing on the paper and taking a deep breath, "Thank you. I'll do my best not to disappoint..." the way the last word lingered made her understand that his opinion on her father had changed. 

"If you're having any trouble with deciphering the array, feel free to take anything that can be useful from Father's study."

"There are some really complicated parts actually," he breathed, "but I'll study them thoroughly." 

"Which ones?" she asked, not expecting him to actually reach for her back, just below her left shoulder. 

"This part here, for example, is like a chemical reaction. I've never seen it before," he started tracing the writings with his fingertips, obviously engrossed in studying them and oblivious of the way her body tensed under his touch, "Some symbols are too small to make out," he said as he slowly brought his face closer to her back to the point where she could feel his breath hitting her skin. This was where time slowed down for her a second time. This time around, she was noticing a pattern. The fire burning in the fireplace suddenly became static, unstirred. It was like her unconsciousness wanted her to live in that particular moment with his fingertips tracing her skin. But this time, instead of finding comfort in his touch, for some reason, it felt like she was being tortured by it, and the skin under his fingers was burning to the point of clouding her mind. Then the spell ended as abruptly as it began.

Apparently, he became self-conscious of what he was doing and hurriedly removed his hand from her back, clearing his throat, "I'm sorry. I'm gonna...try to finish this quickly," she could hear a hint of regret on his voice but also self-awareness. It was like he knew he was going to end up doing that. 

"It's alright. Take your time. Plus, I don't know if I'm fine with you taking notes in the first place. I mean, Father didn't want to put his research on paper for a reason." 

"I have to take notes. I can't have you stay like this while I study very complicated alchemy." 

"Well, I don't really mind— "

"I do," he interrupted her, "I mean...I'll be careful. I promise I'll destroy the notes as soon as I'm done with them." 

She smiled softly, leaning her head on the sofa, "I trust you."

They stayed up all night, mostly in silence. But at some point, sleep was winning her over. "Riza?" she could hear him calling her name but was too tired to move, so she just listened, "Thank you," he continued, apparently thinking she was long asleep, "Please stay safe," and that was all she could register as sleep took over. 

When she woke up in the morning, she found herself in her bed and wearing her pajamas, which she had no recollection of putting on. She got up and searched around the mansion for him, but he was gone. And even though she expected him to do that, a part of her was still hurt. Why wouldn't he wait to at least tell her goodbye? She noticed the card for contacting him that he gave her the other day was still on the table with a note on the side. _I'm sorry. Again. Duty calls, so I had to leave early. If anything happens or you need anything, please contact me._ He had also drawn a goofy face in the end, which she involuntarily smiled at, but her heart felt heavy. He left her just like that. Again. _You idiot._

_-_

More than a week had passed from the last time she saw him, and while overthinking during this time, she concluded that he hadn't actually changed all that much. He was the same reckless boy she used to know, and she was sure he was off somewhere doing something stupid — _like bringing a knife in a gunfight_ stupid — which would endanger his life. A part of her was still mad at him, and the other part of her was mad at herself for being mad at him when she had no reason to. She tried to think about what she wanted to do with her life. Her father hadn't left her with much. She needed to find a job, but currently, the only thing she was good at was worrying about her father's student, who probably thought of her as just an old acquaintance. She most certainly couldn't make a living out of that. So she visited her father's grave again, wrecking her brain on what to do. 

She sat on the ground in front of the grave, a cold breeze blowing and sending shivers through her body, "I feel really lost right now, Father. I wish I knew what to do with myself. I wish I knew what I wanted," she let out a sigh, "I'm a void." She tucked her knees in her chest, hopelessness creeping in her skin. 

On the way back to her house, she saw soldiers on the streets. What were soldiers doing in her small village? She saw two ladies standing near the corner of the street, whispering to each other, "What is going on?" she asked them, confused by all the fuss. 

"Oh dear, they are recruiting soldiers for the war that is going on in Ishval. It's horrible. So many people are dying down there. They need more recruits." 

Hearing those words, her heart skipped a beat. _Many people were dying?_ Was he safe? Maybe he was already dead. He hadn't said a word about where he was stationed. He just disappeared. Visions of him being dead in the battlefield crowded her mind, and she tried with all her might to push them aside, but the anxiety was winning her over. The pang in her chest was growing heavier, making it difficult for her to breathe. _Why does it hurt?_

"Are you ok, dear? Your face is pale. Do you have family in the military?"

"No...I— " she was breathing quickly, trying to gather her thoughts, "I do actually." 

And suddenly, the answer was clear to her. The question that had been torturing her for the longest time finally had an answer. 

_There's someone I want to protect. _

"I'm so sorry to hear that. I'll pray for them to be safe." 

"He better be," she breathed, "I'll personally make sure of that." 

-

The military academy changed her perspective in many ways. Most importantly, she was able to discover a newly-found determination within herself, which she didn't know she had. She had always been a good student. Her father made sure that she had a good education. However, she was ignorant in many ways. As expected, the real world wasn't exactly how it is described in the books. And the pains that life brings are actually never-ending. 

"Get up, Hawkeye!"

It was the sixth time she ended up on the ground. This time she could taste the blood in her mouth mixed with dust from the ground. Hand to hand combat wasn't exactly her forte, and the woman standing before her was much stronger than her. She wasn't physically prepared to beat an opponent like her because first, her figure was much smaller than the woman's, and second, she didn't have enough experience. She knew that, and everyone else gathered around cheering on them also knew that. She got up again, feeling dizzy, but trying her best not to pass out. 

"Stop!" a voice from the crowd cried. But it was too late as the woman kicked her on the ground again with one move. 

"I said, stop! Can't you see she's just a child?" 

"Stand back, Catalina. This is none of your business. She's got the face of a rich kid. It pisses me off." 

By the time the woman stopped talking, she was on her feet again, willing her legs not to give up on her. 

"Gotta admire your determination Hawkeye. But you're weak." 

She took a deep breath, her body felt heavy, and she could feel a sharp pain on her lower lip — it was probably cut, "I'm here to get stronger."

"Oh, so she talks," the woman was getting ready to hit her again, but the girl with black, wavy hair stopped her. 

"Enough already," the girl said and walked towards her, "Let's get your wounds treated," she muttered and walked her to the infirmary. 

"My name is Rebecca. What's yours?" she asked as she was cleaning the wound on her lip.

"Riza," she hissed at the pain. 

"Well, Riza, you're a reckless one. You should have just stayed on the ground. She would have left you alone, and you wouldn't have gotten this beat up." 

"That wouldn't have been fun. There was a crowd to entertain after all." 

"Seriously, your stubbornness will get you killed." 

"I can't die yet. There's something I have to do," she didn't know why she was being so expressive with the girl. She figured she just needed someone to talk to after all, "Thank you, Rebecca, for standing up for me. Not many people would have done that." 

"I'm just glad you're ok. Those people were picking on you for no reason." 

"No, they were right. I need to get stronger. And better in hand to hand combat." 

"You and me both. I also suck at it," she laughed, "Let's go. We need to be at the running track, and I think we're already late." 

-

What she lacked in hand to hand combat, she discovered she made up with her shooting skills. Even though she had never even seen a gun before, she could handle it with ease. So she started studying guns thoroughly and started working on her shooting accuracy until it became impeccable. If it meant to protect people, she was going to become the _perfect soldier._ However, she was to soon discover the reality of the perfect soldier. 

19.

The war in Ishval was getting more aggressive and bloody. Thousands of people were dying every day from both sides, and the military needed more recruits in the field. So even though her unit hadn't finished the military training in the academy, they were sent on the battlefield. 

Ishval was a land of rocky cliffs, sand, and little to no vegetation. Due to the hostile living conditions, it was no surprise that the people living there had a strict religion and were strong-willed fighters. When asked why the war started in the first place, the commanding officers would just give them the _simple_ answer of the _simple_ reason — Ishvalans had disrupted the peace in Amestris. The soldiers were going on the battlefield to protect their comrades and their country. That was what they were taught to believe. It certainly made it look like their cause was noble, and as if they weren't out there exterminating the people of their own country. 

The first moment she stepped foot on Ishval, she knew this place was going to change her forever. She could smell the stench of blood mixed with gunpowder in the air — it made her feel nauseous. While marching down in the Daliha district, she was finally faced with the real horrors of the war. Corpses were scattered everywhere, on the ground, not only men and women but also children were found under the ruins of the homes. It was a horrifying view, one that would be engraved in her mind for the rest of her life. And for a fraction of a second, she thought of running away from it all. She wished it was all a bad dream and that she would wake up somewhere else. Somewhere as far away as possible from that place. 

"Riza? Are you ok? Your face is really pale right now," she felt Rebecca grabbing her arm and bringing her back to reality. 

"No, actually, I'm not so fine." 

"Pull yourself together. These commanding officers of ours are scary as it is. We don't want them to get mad because you're spacing out." 

"I just — " the words got stuck in her throat, and her breathing quickened, "I haven't seen a dead body since — " flashes of her father's death crowded her mind, and she felt lightheaded.

"Hey, concentrate. Aren't you here because you have something to do?" 

Rebecca was right. She had a reason she was in that place. She made a choice to be there. No one forced her, and now she needed to face the consequences head-on. 

"Listen, your determination is something I have never seen before. You have gone through training that is almost humanly impossible to endure. If any of us would survive, this hellhole, that would be you."

"Don't say that, Rebecca! We will all be just fine," she winced at her words because she didn't believe them — how was she expecting Rebecca to believe her?

-

They were stationed in small units outside the district. The Ishvalans were skilled at guerrilla warfare, it was tough to find a counter to it. They had already killed thousands with their guerrilla tactics, and apparently, they had support from Aerugo, which made things even more complicated. The Amestris military tried to locate their supplies, confiscate them, and also put snipers in high buildings to observe their movements. 

"What are you waiting for, Hawkeye?" 

Her hand was shaking as she aimed at an Ishvalan on the field. Shooting a target was different from shooting an actual human being, and she knew that. She was prepared for this. At least that's what she thought, but when it was time to actually shoot a person, she found out she wasn't ready. 

"Every second that you waste another comrade dies on the battlefield. Those out there are enemy fighters. They are armed and dangerous. Are you disobeying orders, soldier?" 

Weren't soldiers supposed to protect their people? She joined the military to protect her people, not kill them. Her mind was going in circles. The heat from the direct sunlight was making her dizzy, "No, sir," she took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the person's leg, effectively throwing him on the ground but not actually killing him. 

"Listen, Hawkeye, I'm being soft with you because you're one of the most talented cadets I've ever seen, but there's something you need to get in that head of yours. This isn't a playground. This is war. And you're a sniper, which means that you have to pull the damn trigger and kill the enemy. That is your job. So stop playing around. Stop hesitating. Otherwise, you won't even survive until the evening. You're dead." 

She _knew_ that. She knew all of that — there was no need for her to hear those words. She just couldn't grasp the reality of it, and her anxiety wasn't helping. As much as she wanted to convince herself that it was her duty as a soldier, she ended up getting invisibly crushed by the implications of her actions. 

-

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Rebecca sat next to her after she spotted her sulking in the corner of the building separated from the rest of the unit, her head covered by her now-grey-and-dusty overcoat. 

"A bit queasy as usual. And you?" 

"Me too. This place really is hell," she sighed, "Hey, maybe we should stop thinking so much about this. After all, we're here to help, right?" 

"Rebecca...why are you here?" 

"What do you mean? I'm here to comfort my friend who is feeling bad, and looks like an actual ghost." 

"No, I mean, why did you join the military?" 

"Well, to be honest, I did it because I wanted to get away from my town. Being a perfect housewife isn't my notion of an ideal life, you know. Is it bad that I wanted a better future for myself? Even though that future isn't looking so bright right now," she laughed, a pensive look on her face.

"No! Of course not. Everyone should seek a better future for themselves. And everyone has to make difficult choices depending on what they want in life. I guess we made ours, and there is no going back." 

Rebecca got up and stretched a hand towards her, "Exactly, better days are coming. We need to move now. They already left us behind." 

Suddenly she noticed a figure that was growing larger behind Rebecca. For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating due to the heat, but the figure became clearer, and the man had a knife in his hand. In the very short window of time that she had to act, her mind went blank. He was going to hit Rebecca, so she instinctively reached for her gun and shot the man before Rebecca could even notice that someone was behind her. All the muscles in her body completely froze. The loud thoughts in her mind came back all at once, and her head felt like a beehive. The reek of blood made her stomach retch, and all she could feel was Rebecca hugging her — _you saved me_ — and finally, she was able to grasp her reality, the grip on it so strong she could feel her heart clench. A reality where she pulled the trigger and someone died, just like that. But she was going to do anything to protect the people she cared about. 

-

When dealing with guns and rifles for a considerable amount of time, she discovered that some things quickly became second nature to her. Like counting bullets. That was a good habit, she thought — it was a habit that could be useful to her as a soldier — however, counting the people she killed was not. Because she was slowly driving herself crazy. But unfortunately for her, the two things were the same. She didn't remember when or how she got separated from Rebecca or the rest of her unit, but she suddenly found herself being dragged deeper into the field. And as she walked through the streets of the ruined city, she could just hope that her friend was safe. She had run out of water and needed to find one of the military bases to get supplies. 

"Hey, that is the kid I was talking about." 

"Wait, she's a girl?" 

People had recently started talking about her. They would randomly praise and congratulate her. She wouldn't understand why. They were praising her for killing people? She couldn't even wrap her head around the _absurdity_ of that. The commanding officers would regard her as the _perfect soldier. The sharp-shooting prodigy. The Hawk's Eye._ She would laugh at herself at the irony of it all. So she actually got what she wanted. She became the perfect soldier. Now what? She had the sudden desire to just disappear into thin air. 

"This bloody war might really be coming to an end soon." 

"Right. After King Bradley issued the order for the Ishval annihilation, these damned Ishvalans have no chance." 

"With the State Alchemists by our side, we will finally obliterate them." 

So the ruins she saw on the way there and the strange shapes on the ground were alchemists' work. She took a sip of water, not wanting to be too obvious that she was prying on those soldiers' conversation. But if she was honest with herself, she wasn't very sociable and couldn't really bring herself to join the discussion. Plus, with their mentality and line of thinking, she didn't really want to. 

"Especially with the Flame Alchemist. He is doing most of the job. A real hero I'm telling you." 

Her heart sank. _The Flame Alchemist? Could it be_ — _no._ She felt lightheaded again, and she could feel the involuntary shiver on her shoulders. It was funny how she could withstand the heat and the thirst in the middle of the desert with no problem, but the first moment someone possibly mentions him, she could, somehow, no longer control her own body. As her thoughts were running wild in her head, she realized she was in a losing battle with herself. If that was him, it meant that he was alive and well — she convinced herself that there was nothing she wanted more than that — and he had deciphered Father's notes. On the other hand — _annihilating Ishval_ — that wasn't exactly what she was hoping her father's alchemy would be used for. Then a fear she had buried in the back of her mind came resurfacing. What if the power of the flame alchemy had possessed him as it did to her father? She poured the rest of her water on her head, relishing in the chilling feeling it sent through her skin for a second. 

"Hey, are you ok?" a voice said, and it took her some time to notice they were talking to her. 

She raised her head, looking at the perplexed face of the soldier in front of her, "The heat is making me delirious," she finally said, which wasn't entirely a lie. In the distance, she noticed dark smoke haul up in the sky. And her thoughts went there again. If what she feared was true, it would be her fault. And she couldn't bear something like that. She could barely stand herself in the current state of mind she was in. 

-

Keeping herself separated from the rest of the soldiers had its benefits — for example, they wouldn't be there to witness her erratic breakdowns — but also many drawbacks. She often found herself stranded in the middle of the desert with no backup and no supplies. It usually was a big problem, especially during the night. And tonight was one of those nights, where she found herself stuck in a high building and was running out of ammo. The building was a wreck, it could barely stay afoot. The roof was destroyed, either by a bomb or by alchemists — she wasn't sure at this point — but that was bad news for her. During the night, the temperatures dropped drastically in the desert, and she could freeze if she wouldn't start a fire. But in the situation she was in — low on ammo, far away from her military camp, and probably surrounded by enemy soldiers — she couldn't afford to give her location away by starting a fire. The ceiling made the matter worse because now she was more susceptible to the cold. She tried to cover herself with everything she could find, but it wasn't really helping. 

At some point, she just gave up and felt her body very heavy and tired. Her stomach hurt, and she was confused as to why, but then it hit her. She couldn't even remember the last time she had something to eat. She let out a long sigh and opted to stare at the sky instead. The stars were beautifully glittering in the pitch-black sky. It reminded her of her childhood, where she would gaze at the stars from her attic. She stretched her arm toward the stars like she was reaching for something. She didn't know what, maybe she was just trying to plead the universe to give her merely one moment of peace. Just like she did back in the attic. Then her vision got darker, and the stars faded in the sky's darkness. Like clockwork, she heard her heartbeat. The sound so deafening she had to mentally close her ears, but it didn't stop. The ticking kept going and was driving her crazy. _Do you deserve a moment of peace?_ Her heart rate was increasing, like a hammer pounding in her head. _Do you even deserve to be alive?_ She felt her body burning, the heat making her restless. Her vision became blurry. The visions of all the horrors she had seen — people dying, blood being shed everywhere, children crying and screaming in agony — crowded her mind.

_Murderer._

Only then did she notice the uncontrollable trembling of her body, and the way she was struggling to breathe — the lump in her throat getting more prominent and unbearable. And as tears started tracing down her face, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. But the soldier in her didn't allow that. She was going to give away her location if she did. So she put her hands on her mouth to muffle the screaming. And she screamed. The sound of it like static noise in her ears mixed with stifled sobbing. She got on her feet only for her to lose control of her body again and fall on her knees. Her body was still burning. Hypothermia? Or was her mind delirious? All her senses were out of control. She knew it was a bad idea to remove her jacket, but she just couldn't stand the heat anymore. Was it her soul that was burning? And it slowly drowned to her how much _disgusted_ she was of herself. Then it hit her with an intensity she had never felt before. And as the sobbing and the shivering continued, she dug her nails on her arms and started scratching the skin uncontrollably. It was as if her soul wanted to rid itself of her useless body. Then her hands traveled on her head, vigorously tugging on her hair. Enough. Enough. _Enough_. She implored the pain in her chest to just stop. It was the first time ever she felt so trapped in her own agony. It was torture.

She looked up at the sky again, only the stars were witnesses of her hopeless and pitiful state. She finally thought that if she had to die tonight, she would just let it be, let the stars take her, and give up, just like that. _Pathetic_ — the voice in her head kept repeating. That was when a shooting star lit the sky for just a heartbeat, and she was reminded of her foolish wish. So she instinctively decided to be _selfish_ and ask for another absurd wish. 

_Bring him back to me. I'll survive tonight if you bring him back to me._


End file.
